


Moehewa

by Swifters



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Drowning, Gen, Nightmares, No (overt) Baywatch moments!!, Not a death fic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8420152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifters/pseuds/Swifters
Summary: Danny's been having nightmares. No way do those things come true, right?





	

**Thanks to KQ for the beta and IC for the lovely comments.**

**This is a short, slightly supernatural story. It's nearly Halloween after all! Warnings- swearing, Danny whump and peril and the like.**

Chapter 1

_He was sinking._

_Shocked eyes open wide, he watched, helpless, paralysed, as the rippling surface of the ocean rose high above him, far out of reach. As the shifting beams of sunlight cast deep into liquid green-blue faded towards darkness. He held his breath, fighting the urge to inhale even as his body screamed for air._

_Suddenly he could move again and he struck out, reaching upwards, legs kicking desperately._

_Nothing happened. Something was holding him fast, stopping him. He looked down. Seaweed had tangled around his legs. Shadowed, but glistening in the half-light, it was sliding up his body like a living thing, hell-bent on capturing him and drawing him down. Its slippery tendrils wrapped around his waist, his chest, his neck, his flailing arms. It pulled him deeper and deeper._

_He fought it, frantic, because he didn't want this. He hated the ocean, he didn't want to die like this. He didn't want to die here, alone, like Billy had all those years ago. But he couldn't break free. He was weakening now, life slipping away from him. Desperate, he tried to shout out. He watched the chain of silvery bubbles that poured from his open mouth- the last breath he had taken- twist and turn upwards without him._

_A hand closed on his ankle. He looked down in shock._

_Billy. It was_ him _. Billy Selway. Face blue, eyes milky white, he pulled Danny down towards him, into the weed, into the black depths. Billy's cold, cold dead arm wrapped around his neck, pulled Danny closer until thin lips were pressed to his ear._

_Whispered words were repeated, over and over and over again, as Danny was drawn down to certain death. Words that meant nothing to him, nothing at all._

_"Semper simul. Semper simul. Semper simul."_

_The weight on his chest was unbearable, the pain in his head inescapable. He felt those cold hands hold him tight as the words were repeated again and again. He was done. He had nothing left to fight with and he stilled._

_He breathed in._

Danny jerked awake with a scream on his lips, his heart pounding in terror. For a second he could still feel it all. The seaweed, Billy, the sensation of drowning. His lungs felt like wet sponges and Jesus, he couldn't breathe!

He fought the panic, lunging for the light-switch with shaking fingers as he forced himself to slow down. Reminded himself the air was right there, all around him. He was okay. He sat there, shaking, then drew up his legs and wrapped his arms tight around his knees.

_Fuck._ Not again.

…...

"Okay, spill. What's wrong?"

Danny started at Steve's soft question because he'd been miles away, zoned out, exhaustion and the clinging hold of his persistent nightmare still refusing to leave him alone. "What?"

"What's wrong? You're quiet. You aren't being annoying. That's just not normal."

He turned his head to shoot something resembling a glare at Steve, but then shrugged resignedly. He sagged back against the headrest. "M'just tired. Not been sleeping so good."

There was a silence for a few moments. Danny watched the landscape streak by at the usual ridiculous speed, idly imagining the varied angles for a response that might be going through Steve's head. His partner would be concerned but loathe to be too obvious about that, emotionally constipated freak that he was.

"Insomnia again, Danno? Infomercials too interesting, keeping you awake?"

The chosen reply was comfortably predictable and Danny smiled to himself. "You're a funny guy, Steven. Did I ever tell you you're a funny guy?"

"I'm funnier than _you_ anyway," came the caustic reply. Then the SEAL's tone softened again. "Danny c'mon, spill. You can talk to me, you know that. What's on your mind?"

Danny sighed deeply, too beat to bother putting up a fight. "Okay. You asked for it," he said with a nod, one finger pointing in Steve's general direction before the hand flopped down to join the other in his lap. "When I manage to sleep I've been having this dream, okay? It's been on freaking repeat for _days_ now."

"Not the good kind of dream I guess," Steve hazarded.

"No, not the good kind," Danny acknowledged ruefully, letting his eyes fall shut. "So yeah. That's it. Not sleepin'. Bad dreams. Thank you for your concern but I'm sure it'll pass. I just need to drink another bucket of coffee and I'll be good."

"Okay. So tell me about it."

Danny opened one eye, cocked his head to look at his partner. "The dream? Seriously? Why? It's just a nightmare. What's the point? Anyway, maybe I don't feel comfortable talking about it. You're just gonna ridicule me, I can feel it."

"Danny, I'm hardly going to ridicule you," Steve began, "you know in ancient times, Hawaiian people-"

Danny rolled his eyes.

"- believed their ancestral guardians communicated with them through dreams. Interpreting dreams was considered very important- their content was taken very seriously. In fact, there are still people about who stand by those beliefs today- I know a few personally."

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Well… thanks for that insight. That's… really informative. And no disrespect, but I'm not one of those people, okay? So this isn't _that_. It's just a freaking nightmare. It isn't freaking Great Aunt Edna sending a message from the other realm or whatever."

"Are you sure, Danno?" responded Steve, managing to sound like he was being perfectly reasonable. "There was a time you didn't believe in ghosts either, remember that?"

"I _don't_ believe in ghosts!" exclaimed Danny, indignant.

Steve threw him an incredulous look framed by a raised eyebrow. "Buddy, you have a selective memory, you know that?"

"Shut up, huh," Danny whined back eloquently. He had no desire at any point to recall anything whatsoever to do with haunted apartments or gardening apparitions, and would happily deny anything and everything to do with both until the day he died.

"C'mon, tell me," Steve needled. "It's clearly got you spooked so I want to hear about it. I promise not to mock, okay?"

Danny sighed deeply, already resigned to telling before he found the words to actually do it. "Okay, okay. I'm just… I'm under the water, okay? The ocean, I mean. There's something wrong cause I can't swim, not at all. I'm just sinking. Then I'm all tangled up in seaweed and shit and it's dark and… I'm _drowning_. Then…" he hesitated, glanced at Steve. "Okay, I know this is predictable as hell, but Billy's there."

"Billy…?" Steve's face wrinkled up, then realization dawned and Danny could virtually see his partner's concern crank up a couple of notches. "Billy Selway? Your friend who drowned back when you were a kid?"

"Yeah." Danny leaned back again, shaking his head slowly from side to side. He felt stupid, saying all this out loud.

Steve didn't comment. He nodded once. "Okay. What's he doing? He try to save you?"

" _No_! No. The freaking opposite. He's just… he's pulling me _down_. And the seaweed's pulling me down and… Jesus, it's like the sea wants me in there with him. Like _Billy_ wants me in there with him. And he's talking, he's saying something. I can't tell what at first. And I just can't get back up and I can't _breathe_."

Danny closed his eyes, and he could feel the pull of those cold, dead hands again. The wet, slippery seaweed wrapping around him and drawing him down, his lungs screaming for air. He grabbed at the seat beneath him, white-knuckled.

_He looked up at the surface of the water, rippling high above his head, seeing the sunlight dull as he was pulled deeper and deeper. He tried to hold his breath until he just couldn't any longer and he lost the fight, drawing in that first deadly lungful of salt water._

"Danny?! _Danny_! Hey. Easy! You okay?!"

Jesus! Danny snapped back to reality with a jolt, breathing hard, sweat pouring down his face. He drew in a gulping breath, then another, then another, until the panic started to recede to more manageable levels.

What the hell had happened there? Was he freaking dreaming when he was awake now?! He looked around, mortified.

Steve had pulled over to the side of the road. He was right in Danny's face, wearing that look of wide-eyed concern that left creases right down the center of his forehead. One big hand was clamped on Danny's arm.

"Yeah, yeah," Danny panted. " _Shit_. Just a stupid dream, right?" He closed his eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths as he got himself back under control.

After a few beats he felt Steve release him, felt the car moving again and he was fucking grateful for that. Grateful that Steve was giving him a bit of mental space to get his shit together and wasn't just sitting there staring at him anymore.

A good five minutes passed before Steve spoke again. "What did he say?"

Danny frowned in confusion. "Wh-what?"

"Billy. You said you couldn't make out what he was saying at first."

Danny blinked a few times, "Wh-why, y-you think it meant something?" he said, following up with a high-pitched giggle. He meant it to sound sarcastic and mocking, because no way would either of them believe in that dead-people-communicating thing. But it came out all wrong, like a straight question.

Steve didn't reply, giving nothing away.

Danny shook his head at himself, at both of them. He frowned hard, trying to remember the exact words Billy had used. "It never really made sense at all," he said. "I didn't understand it. Semper sim.. something. Is that Latin? See I have no idea and no freaking way would Billy speak to me in Latin from beyond the grave. If he ever got the chance, it wouldn't be Latin, it would be…."

He stopped. It would be what? 'Why me not you?' or 'It's your fault I'm dead'? _Fuck._

No, he shook his head. He was projecting. Those were his own sentiments, not his childhood best friend's. Billy wouldn't blame him. Would he?

"Semper simul? Was it semper simul?" Steve's tone was abrupt and that made Danny frown.

"Th-that sounds right. Don't tell me you speak Latin too?" He laughed again, searching for a more normal gear to engage in his head. "Let me guess, the SEALs had a freaking secret time machine and you got sent to fight the Romans? Or back the Romans up? Which side would we have been on anyway? I'm a bit fuzzy on the whole politics of the Roman invasion thing, you know. I'm assuming they were the bad guys but I saw this documentary once and it said they brought roads and central heating and concrete and wine and things like that with them, so those things had to be good, huh?"

Steve was blatantly ignoring his rambling thing. He didn't answer at all for long enough that the hair started to stick up on the back of Danny's neck. "What, what does it mean? Steve?"

He watched as Steve licked his lips, a sure tell he felt nervous. "It would roughly translate as 'always together'".

Danny laughed as a reflex, because seriously? What the hell did that mean? Billy wouldn't want that, would he? Would he want Danny to drown too so they could be together? They had been best friends. That was crazy. And, wait, he was dreaming in Latin that actually made sense? That was even crazier! For a second he felt that cold hand close on his ankle again, pulling him downwards. He shuddered.

"Well that's… creepy," he cleared his throat.

Steve exhaled audibly, then shrugged. "It's not an unusual phrase really. It's used for... I guess mottoes, that kind of thing. I suppose you saw it somewhere. Or heard it in a movie. Or something."

Danny stared at him doubtfully, then started to wrack his brain, trying to come up with an occasion he might have heard the phrase before. He drew a blank.

Steve was glancing at him repeatedly again. "Look, D, forget about the dream thing, I'm sure it's nothing. But if you're not sleeping… we've had a lot of shit thrown at us over the last few years. You thought of seeing anyone about it?"

"Seeing anyone..? Sure, I see _you_ on a daily basis."

"You know what I mean. Talk it out with a professional. After everything with Matty. And the plane crash. And… well you know the list. When you're stressed it's not uncommon for old stuff to rear its head again, you know? I mean if you're not okay… it's okay to admit it, right?"

"Thanks for that, Doctor Freud!" Danny snarked out of habit, and yeah, he was maybe feeling a little exposed and vulnerable right then. "Anyway, I could say exactly the same thing to you, you total hypocrite! You spend most of your time trying to think up new ways of getting yourself killed. That's not normal, Steven! Most people who've had a _liver transplant_ kick back and take it easy, but not you, oh no!"

Steve had to be worried because he didn't snark right back at the blatant defensive bluster. "It's not me who hasn't been sleeping," he said, so soft Danny barely heard it. "Listen, you want to take off early, try to catch up on some sleep?"

Danny deflated. He shook his head wearily. "No. Seriously there's no point. Unless I take a pill and I hate that. I hate not being able to wake up just in case, you know? No, we gotta get this freak Campbell before he kills another unsuspecting tourist."

"I know, buddy. I know," Steve replied, nodding slowly. "Okay, how about this. Once we get the case wrapped up you wanna go the other way? Stay up late, catch a movie? I'd say grab a couple of beers, but, well, you know. Liver thing. You can crash on the couch if you feel like sleeping."

Danny snorted and opened his mouth to say 'no', but stopped. If he was brutally honest with himself, right then he couldn't think of anything he'd like more than having a cantankerous but unendingly reliable SEAL in the vicinity to help him stave off sleep when his head was hell-bent on playing stupid tricks on him. "Yeah. Yeah why not. Thanks."

"Anytime, partner. You know that."

Danny shot him a grateful smile. Yeah. He _did_ know that.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chapter 2

Catching the serial killer before he struck again was top of Danny's wish-list for the day, naturally. But almost as high on that list were drinking endless caffeine-based beverages and, more importantly, avoiding the ocean like the plague. So when new intel came in from Chin's CI on the current whereabouts of their one and only suspect, Robert Campbell, Danny didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

It was like fate was messing with him. _Of course_ their crazed murderer had just hired a freaking _yacht_. _Of course_ the CI had told Chin it looked like said crazed murderer was intending to head for said yacht right away, most likely to make a break for it. And _of course_ Danny and Steve were closest by miles, already on Sand Island Access Road by a bizarre coincidence and just two minutes away from the marina where the vessel was berthed.

It _was_ all coincidence, though, he reminded himself. They lived on an island, for goodness' sake. The odds of ocean and serial killer ending up in the same vicinity had to be pretty high.

Still, Danny's stomach churned with nerves as they sped along, because this was a freaking cliché waiting to happen. You have the dream, you dismiss the dream despite being terrified of the dream, then the dream comes freaking true.

_Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream._

He kept up his internal mantra until he realized his lips were moving along in time with it and Steve had blatantly noticed. His partner was glancing at him way too frequently for someone driving as fast as he was in traffic as heavy as it was.

"Yeah," said Steve, agreeing with his not-quite internal monologue. "I'm sure it _was_ just a dream. You with me, partner? You wanna stay in the car? It's cool if you wanna, the other guys are like five minutes out."

Steve somehow managed to sound calm and appropriately concerned even as he threw the Camaro into a sideways skid. It came to tidy halt beside a random pile of shipping crates with Danny's stomach lagging several meters behind.

"No, I don't wanna stay in the car." Danny snapped, pushed his door open. "Just a dream? What happened to your ancient Hawaiian beliefs, huh?"

Steve sighed as he stepped out of the Camaro, unfolding his long frame. He scanned their surroundings. "Danny, yeah, it's weird but I'm sure it's nothing. But if this has you so freaked out that you're not gonna be able to focus, _that's_ what's gonna cause something bad to happen. So, are you fit for this? No judgement, okay? We all have off days."

"I'm _fine_ ," Danny grumbled insistently as slipped off his tac vest. He threw it into the back seat to join Steve's. They needed to blend in. Try to avoid alerting Campbell should he see them before they saw him. Try to not look like cops.

"Okay. Just… don't fall in."

Danny shot Steve a penetrating glance at that and yeah, okay, so the carefully everted gaze told him his partner had a touch of paranoia about this as well. Maybe he took the Hawaiian dream thing more seriously than he was letting on.

Danny shook his head in disgust. "Oh and there was me hoping to take a nice swim. I'll do my best, okay? Believe me, I have no intention of ending up in the ocean anytime soon!"

It _was_ just a dream, he reminded himself yet again. Just a freaking dream and the fates were _not_ conspiring to send him to the watery death he had feared deep down ever since Billy had died. Nope.

The partners walked along slowly, side-by-side, eyes roaming their surroundings.

The marina was extensive. A series of broad, parallel piers jutted out to sea from the main concourse. Boat sheds and equipment stores were positioned along each, the wooden access doors painted in a whole medley of bright colors. A maze of floating walkways between the piers formed berths of all shapes and sizes, home to yachts and motorboats and fishing vessels and more.

As they meandered faux-casually along the concourse Danny felt his adrenaline rise with every step, and not just because of their proximity to the sparkling blue of the Pacific. He had more down-to-earth things to worry about, because they were about to try to catch a serial killer and, for all it was still early in the morning, the marina was already relatively busy. Normal, non-murderous, law-abiding citizens bustled around at the start of the stereotypically beautiful Hawaiian day. The situation could easy result in a shoot-out, and a shoot-out with innocent bystanders in the immediate vicinity was bad, bad, bad.

Steve nudged him, pointing discretely at a yacht a short distance along the nearest pier. The name was painted in delicate red lettering on the side; _Annie K._ That was it- that was the boat Campbell had just hired and was supposedly heading for imminently.

Danny pulled out his cell, pretended he was talking on it to give them a reason to loiter nearby.

"No movement on board," Steve murmured. "If he's there, he's below deck. The boat's still tied, so he'll have to show himself to cast off if he's aboard."

Danny nodded absently, eyes roving the figures around them. Then he met a startled gaze head on a good hundred meters away from them. Campbell! It was him and he'd clocked them at the exact moment Danny had clocked him, their rudimentary efforts to blend in apparently having failed miserably.

"Shit!" Danny exclaimed. He thrust his phone back in his pocket and started to run.

Steve was right with him. "Campbell? Where?"

"White shirt, panama hat," Danny panted out, already sprinting hard.

The chase was on.

It went the way it always went, with people screaming and scattering as guns were drawn all round. Steve was on his cell, somehow managing to run and yell instructions to Chin simultaneously. Chin and Kono were maybe two minutes out, driving in from the other direction to box Campbell in. Lou wasn't far behind, and Steve and Danny were closing in on their bad guy _fast_ … they _had_ him, they were going to get him.

It was going _great_ , it was going fine, Danny thought even as he ran, gun drawn, breath burning in his chest. And if he was carefully keeping the impressive bulk of his partner between him and the edge of the dock, so what?

Then Campbell's stride broke. He half-turned, apparently clocking just how much ground they'd made on him.

That was when everything began to turn to complete and utter shit.

Campbell shoved his way through a meandering family group, sending the mother flying to the ground. Then, because the guy was an utter bastard, he picked up a screaming little girl by the waist and _threw_ her towards the water. The girl flailed desperately, arms wind-milling, white flowery dress fanning out like a parachute around her.

Campbell glanced back at them again, a toothy half-grin on his face, then ran on.

_Shit!_

The girl hit the water with a splash. As they sprinted up, pushing past screaming family members, Danny still had hope that this wasn't a disaster. The kid had looked about eight- old enough that she probably knew how to swim. And it hadn't looked like she'd hit her head. She was gonna be right there, gonna be fine, she would have been grabbed by one of the random on-lookers already and they could go after their guy.

But, as they reached the water's edge, there was no splashing, no frantic struggle at the surface, no crying. She was just _gone_.

"Shit. _Shit_!" Steve was a few steps in front and, without missing a beat, he dived in after her, breaking the water right at the spot she'd gone in. He wasn't alone. There were others too- the terrified father and some big Samoan guy and a girl dressed in trendy surfer gear all threw themselves in, all disappeared below the surface.

Feeling physically sick, Danny hesitated.

His eyes flicked to the fleeing serial killer then back to the water that had just taken the little girl. _Shit, shit, shit!_ He should run on- they couldn't let Campbell escape and Steve was on the case here…. but he couldn't do it. He couldn't go, not yet. He needed to know the kid was okay before he went on.

He paced the edge of the pier breathlessly, keeping Campbell in his sights.

But then Steve broke surface and his arms were empty. He took a great gulp of air, met Danny's eye once and then he was gone again. Danny had seen the expression on his face. Confusion and fear. The girl should have been right there and she just _wasn't_.

Suddenly the serial killer didn't matter. The guy was running towards Chin and Kono anyway- Danny could leave him for them to catch. Where was the girl? Shit, shit, _shit_! Where the hell was she?!

She could be caught underwater, beneath a boat or a walkway. If that had happened and she was still close to where she went in, Steve would get her fast. Then Danny's stomach dropped. What if there was a current? What if she was nowhere near where she'd gone in at all? If that was the case, Steve would work it out soon enough, but maybe, just maybe, he could spot her faster from the shore.

He started to walk out along the pier, towards the open ocean, away from Steve and the other would-be rescuers. He walked past the first few berths, peering into the water continuously, looking for _something_. A flash of white dress, something like that, long brown hair just like Gracie's. The brief glimpse he'd had of her, she'd looked just like a younger Grace. He shook himself, because that train of thought was _not_ helping.

Nothing, he could see nothing. He ran right to the end of the pier, looked out to sea. _Nothing_.

Swearing under his breath, he turned to jog back to Steve, but then something caught his eye in the last berth. He crouched down, leaned over the edge and peered through that clear, shimmering seawater. There was movement just below him a couple of meters down and he frowned, leaned over further.

It was seaweed. It was reaching out from beneath the pier, its long tendrils moving around like grasping fingers. He felt an illogical burst of fear, as though the freaking plants were reaching for _him_. Ready to grab him, to pull him down into the water, away from the light and the air.

He berated himself harshly. It was _just seaweed_. That was it. Harmless. His nightmare was still way too close to the surface, he needed to get a grip.

He looked at the seaweed more closely, then realised with a jolt what its movements were telling him. There _was_ a current. It _was_ flowing this way from where the girl had gone in.

He turned his head, following the telling movement of the underwater vegetation further along the berth. The direction of the current changed here, he realised, maybe affected by a different flow out to sea or something like that. It spiralled around in this last berth then… Danny swore under his breath when he saw it.

Then it disappeared beneath the freaking pier.

Shit. _Beneath_ the pier. He had thought the piers themselves were solid, but they couldn't be. If the current was flowing that way, there had to be water _beneath_ them. And if the current had brought the girl this way, she could be under the pier too. He hesitated, doubting his own conclusions. But if he was right….

He jumped to his feet and yelled "I think she might be over here!" towards the gathered crowd. People turned to look and he prayed they'd pass the message on to the water-bound swimmers. That Steve would come _quick_ to help him search, because Danny could swim just fine but this was the SEAL's druthers, not his.

But it was a girl, a little girl, and the clock was ticking on her chances of surviving. Danny was damn well gonna have a go.

Something in his head shouted _no, no no_! Images of clinging seaweed, of Billy's dead face, punched through to the surface. He shook his head, hard. Screw that. It had been a _dream_. Not a threat from beyond the grave. Not a warning. Logically, he knew his dead friend wasn't waiting down there to drown him. That was insane.

Every instinct screamed out at him to stay on dry land. He dismissed them all. His own fears were irrelevant- this was a little girl's _life_.

He kicked off his loafers, took a deep breath and dived right in.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chapter 3

Danny swam downwards then turned neatly to face the pier. He hated opening his eyes under the ocean, hated the feeling, the salt sting and the pressure. He did it anyway. It was freaking dark under there, a harsh contrast with the flickering blue green of the open water behind him. It took a minute for the shadows to begin to resolve into shapes.

He'd been right about the water flowing beneath the pier. The solid concrete superstructure was resting on a submerged metal frame, in turn supported on great tree-trunk like metal piles driven into the ocean floor. Between them thick clumps of seaweed were rooted. They billowed in the shifting current. It looked for all the world like a dark, impenetrable forest.

Danny gritted his teeth together and swam determinedly, pushing through the tangled seaweed into the shadowy darkness. It touched him, tickled him, and the clinging sliminess felt so chillingly familiar he instantly wanted to turn back. The echo of his _freaking_ dream was right there, pushing at his barriers. Trying to make him panic.

It wasn't going to happen. He _wasn't_ gonna panic because that little girl might die if he panicked. He had to stay calm, he had to hold his breath for as long as he possibly could. But his lungs were burning already, because he was a good swimmer but he was no Navy SEAL. If he didn't spot her fast he was gonna have to go back. Get help. They needed divers with oxygen tanks to search down here properly.

But then the girl wouldn't make it.

He pushed on. His pulse was pounding in his head, he could _hear_ it. He tried to focus on it, tried to slow it down so he'd last that bit longer.

It was so freaking dark now, he could virtually _feel_ the weight of the pier above him. The blackness seemed to close in on him, his claustrophobia playing its usual dirty tricks with his mind. He felt the tickle of seaweed against him again and he almost gasped, almost inhaled as a reflex. He flailed in shock at the barely suppressed reaction, grabbing at the nearest pile to steady himself. The rough, barnacle-encrusted surface dug into his hands.

He needed air. Now. He was going to have to turn back.

One more pile. He could search behind one more pile.

_She was there._

Her dress was floating around her. Her brown hair flowed in an endless halo that faded seamlessly into the eerie gloom. She looked ethereal, beautiful. Lifeless. The seaweed had her, was wrapped around her.

He grabbed at it, yanking it away as his lungs burned hot. No way could he hold his breath for much longer... but he couldn't leave her here! There was still hope, they might be able to get her back!

Then the seaweed was around _his_ arms too and that was fucking terrifying. Desperate, he pulled at it. He grunted with the effort and a stream of bubbles- the last of the air in his lungs- poured out in a silvery cascade, a terrifying replay from his nightmare. This was it, he was gonna drown! They were both gonna die! _No, no, no_. he looked down in dread, fully expecting to see Billy's dead face glowing in the murk. There was nothing.

He shook himself, then gave one final, frantic yank with the last of his strength.

They came free.

He wrapped one arm securely around the girls chest and struck out, aiming for the light behind them, the open water. He kicked desperately.

But it had been too long. He was getting dizzy, getting confused, as his body cried out for oxygen. He could barely even _see_. The all-encompassing need to inhale and the battle to not do that very thing… they were taking everything he had. It was all he could do to hang on to the girl. He floundered, sense of direction going. Everything became a pain-filled blur.

Then a miracle happened.

Nameless hands grabbed them both, propelled them towards brighter water then upwards. Danny had a fleeting glimpse of the determined face of the big Samoan guy right up close and personal, then they broke the surface. He hauled in a rasping, agonised breath, then another, then another, barely feeling the grip of the other hands that were grabbing for him, pulling them up onto dry land.

He lay there on his back, shaking hands pressed to the solid surface of the pier. He looked up, saw the Samoan guy looking down at him with concern and tried form the word 'thanks'. It proved too hard. He closed his eyes, panting in the sweet oxygen, feeling the bright sun on his face.

It hadn't happened, he hadn't drowned at all. He'd got the girl out.

But then someone was wailing, bloodcurdling and desperate. Another voice screamed, "She's dead! She's dead!"

And fuck that. No way was he letting her go now.

Vaguely aware a soaking wet Steve was running towards them, eyes wide with shock, Danny hauled himself to his knees beside the limp little girl and let autopilot take over. A quick check in her mouth for obstructions and he was off. Two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty compressions.

Nothing mattered but rhythm and counting. Nothing else was real, nothing else existed. Not the screaming mother or the burn in his chest or his own weak and trembling body.

He felt Steve touch his shoulder, heard him say paramedics were two minutes out. Then his partner was crouching beside him and they were working together like they always worked together, no words needed, the perfect team. Steve's mouth pressed air into those saturated lungs, then Danny pumped that little heart, over and over and over again.

And the mother screamed and screamed and Danny felt like she was screaming at _him_ , because he had been too slow, he should have worked it out faster, got her out faster, been a stronger swimmer. He blanked himself to it, concentrated on what he was doing, _hating_ the feeling of young ribs giving way beneath his hands, knowing that quiet _crack_ was going to haunt him even if she made it.

Then the paramedics were there. He and Steve kept right on going, waiting to be told to step back as the professionals buzzed around them, surrounding them with bags of equipment, cutting away that pretty white dress, sticking in lines and injecting drugs. He didn't watch what they were doing, he did nothing but count out his compressions, then pause for Steve to breathe, then count again, over and over. The task was all-encompassing, all consuming. When the instruction to stop finally came, it came in the form of a hand grabbing the back of his sodden shirt, pulling him clear. If whoever it was had spoken first, he hadn't heard it. He blinked in confusion, hand jerking back towards the girl. Then he saw the defibrillator and understood.

Then every person there was silent. Every person held their breath, waiting, as the machine analysed the electrical activity in the girl's heart.

_Shockable rhythm. Stand clear,_ said the impersonal female voice of the defibrillator.

A collective gasp rippled around the gathered group because, unbelievably, there was _hope_. Then the thin muscles of the tiny body contracted and released once as a shock was administered.

"Okay. We've got a rhythm!"

Cries of surprise and joy were quickly suppressed at the older paramedic's words as his tone gave no indication of triumph, had no edge of excitement for all the girl's heart had just been re-started.

"We're going to keep the support going for now," he explained, even as his colleague began to administer CPR again.

It seemed to go on forever- waiting, hoping for some kind of improvement. Danny just sat there, watching helplessly. He felt sick. Numb. He felt a hand on his shoulder and assumed it must be Steve's. He didn't dare take his eyes off that little girl to find out.

Then the girl took a breath all on her own. Then another. Another. _They had got her back._

The relief was _incredible_. The knowledge the girl had a _chance_. Danny sagged down, a liquid pile of rubbery muscles and racing pulse. He was done, he was finished, he was through, he had less than nothing left. From that moment on, everything became a blur. The girl, some color finally returning to her deathly pale cheeks, was packaged up so, so carefully to be taken to hospital and Danny barely took it in at all.

The ambulance doors slammed shut, sirens wailed, then there was silence. Danny looked around dully, entirely confused.

Okay, he'd maybe lost some time. Everyone had gone. Where had they gone? To hospitals or home to their families or just as far away from the freaking crazy guys with the guns and the child-throwing as they could possibly get. The pier was deserted. Even _Steve_ had disappeared. Danny just sat there, hunched over, shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. He felt cold all of a sudden. _Really_ cold.

He could still feel the seaweed wrapping round him. He could still feel those ribs giving way beneath his hand. He could feel the water pushing to get inside him- his nose, his mouth, his chest. He felt like he was gonna throw up. He _was_ gonna throw up. He clawed his way to the edge of the pier, leaned over the water and vomited up the entire contents of his stomach, wave after wave of nausea spasming through his gut.

"Hey! Hey." And just like that Steve was back, wrapping a thick blanket around his shoulders, rubbing his back.

The second the heaving settled, Steve eased him back into a sitting position. "You okay?"

When he didn't answer right away, Steve sat down beside him, a supportive arm sliding around his shoulders. "They said you were under a long time, buddy. One guy said over seven minutes. You breathe any in?"

Danny shook his head woozily. He had no idea.

"Okay. We're gonna get you checked out, okay? I've got another bus coming for you because you look a little rough. No offence, partner. It's ten minutes out though, I guess they're busy."

Danny barely heard him. "Think she'll make it?" he rasped.

The arm around him tightened and he leaned into it unconsciously.

"I don't know," Steve admitted. "We can find out how she's doing when we get to the hospital, right? But no matter what happens, you did real good, Danno. You've gotta believe that. You _found_ her. You gave her the chance she has. Without you she'd be gone right now."

Danny shivered harder at that last statement, a lump rising in his throat. "They get Campbell?" he choked. "I'm gonna kill Campbell."

"Not yet. We'll get him. Forget about that right now." Steve was rubbing his arms now, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "Tell you what, I'll go bring the car closer, okay? Get you a comfy seat, warm you up." There was a hesitation, then, "You wanna call Gracie?"

Danny let out a sob, because yeah he did and God Steve knew him so well. But he shook his head. "Guessing my cell's broke, it'll wait." He hung his head to hide his tears, embarrassed.

Then Steve was pressing something into his hand. "Here, take mine. Waterproof case. You should get one… I'll let you claim for it on expenses."

Danny glanced up. He saw the indulgent, understanding grin on his partner's tired, wet face and he smiled weakly back at him, interminably grateful. "Thanks," he mumbled, but Steve had already turned to jog away.

He found the number with numb, trembling fingers and hit _call_. And God, it was so good to hear Grace's voice. She seemed a little surprised he was calling her right then, but she knew him pretty damn well too. "I'm fine, Danno," she said in a quiet voice after the two of them had chattered about nothing and everything for a couple of minutes, Danny doing his damndest to keep his own voice even throughout. "I'll see you later, okay? After school? I gotta go, I'm late for Math class."

Danny was left shaking his head, wondering just how transparent a person he really was to those around him and trying to find ways to worry about that.

He really was wiped out. And cold, he was so, so cold. He pulled the blanket tight around himself, hunched over and closed his eyes, letting the shivers wrack his body as he tried to shake off the memory of what had just happened. The haunting similarities with his dream. It _hadn't_ been the same though. There had been no Billy, no freaking random Latin phrases. He hadn't _drowned_ for goodness' sake. Still….

He needed to get a grip. They needed to find out how the girl was, get that bastard Campbell. He needed to hug his kids until they squealed for mercy. Then he needed to drink enough whisky so he'd pass out into a blissfully dreamless state of unconsciousness. No, nope. Fucking liver. Fucking Steve McGarrett.

He heard a soft footfall behind him and opened his mouth to say something to his partner, to bitch about the liver they shared and how it was seriously cramping his fucked-up coping mechanisms….

Then his head exploded and everything went black.

Flickers of reality punched through the dark. The sensation of being dragged. The blue sky above him. The rhythmic splashing of the ocean. The shock as he hit the water. The sensation of sinking.

The light above him dulled slowly as he went deeper, utterly helpless, unable to move. He knew he should try to hold his breath, but he couldn't. Sea water filled his mouth, filled his throat, filled his lungs, smothering, choking. The water was inescapable. He felt his body spasm… then everything stilled. His vision faded to nothing, his world imploded to nothing.

In the emptiness that followed he felt seaweed wrap around his hands, his arms, go in his mouth. He could feel Billy, sense his presence in the darkness. Knew he was right there, blue and decayed, eyes white and glassy.

A cold, dead hand clamped onto Danny's ankle and took a tight hold.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chapter 4

Steve jogged briskly back to the Camaro, ignoring the niggling complaints from his aching body. He had pushed himself hard, had surface-dived over and over again as he searched the first few berths systematically. Around the edges, on the ocean floor, under boats, under the criss-crossing floating walkways. He'd just reached the fourth berth when he'd heard shouting as he surfaced, had become aware that something was happening right at the opposite end of the pier.

Thank _God_ Danny had found her. And thank God that Samoan guy had got them both out of the ocean.

At some point he'd have to catch up with the man who had helped Danny. Find out his name, thank him properly. He deserved a freaking medal. He'd spoken quietly to Steve as they'd watched the ambulance drive away, daughter and mother on board, before he'd disappeared off to drive the rest of the girl's family to the hospital. He'd said that Danny had been struggling beneath the water when he'd spotted him, one arm still wrapped tightly around the girl. That the blond man had been down there too long. He'd offered Steve a blanket for his partner from his car, said to get him checked out.

Steve had requested a second ambulance right then and there, all kinds of alarm bells ringing in his head.

Now he was desperately hoping the symptoms he'd observed in his partner were simply the result of the exhaustion and massive adrenaline crash that would inevitably follow after _anyone_ had pushed themselves to their personal limits and beyond the way Danny just had. The nausea, the dizziness, the confusion, the uncontrollable shivering- they could all be accounted for this way.

But a very real fear remained. If Danny had aspirated even the smallest amount of water he'd be vulnerable to secondary drowning up to 24 hours after the incident. His lungs might just stop working properly, could fill with fluid spontaneously. _He could die._

He needed to be in hospital.

And, as if all that wasn't bad enough, Steve thought wryly, if Danny had been freaked out about his nightmare _before_ … he was never going to _sleep_ again now. He just prayed that the little girl would make it, because no doubt Danny would find a way to blame himself if she didn't.

As Steve reached his partner's car, he was pretty damn pleased to see Lou's truck parked right beside it. A friendly face after the shitstorm that had just befallen them was more than welcome.

The big man was pacing to and fro, speaking on his cell. He waved a silent greeting as Steve approached.

"Yeah…. Yeah…. Got ya. I'll tell him, Chin."

"Lou?" said Steve, breathless. "What's going on?"

Lou's face looked like thunder. "Campbell, that's what! That freaking slippery bastard! We _still_ don't have him. I'm thinking he made it off of Sand Island before HPD even got the check-point in place. We don't have _any_ idea what he's driving so we can't even get him on traffic-cam! Chin and Kono are heading to the boat hire place he used to try and get a description on the vehicle now." He shook his head slowly from side to side, ran his hand down his face. "I'll tell ya Steve, I could _not_ believe my ears when I heard what had happened to that kid."

Then Lou raised an eyebrow, looked Steve up and down properly as though taking in his bedraggled appearance for the first time. "You guys got her out, right? You both okay?"

Steve shook his head, moving towards the Camaro. "Wasn't me. Danny found her. He was under way longer than he's trained for, Lou. I've called a bus for him. He's real cold and shaky, threw up big time and he's just out of it, you know? I've gotta get back to him." He pointed at the sleek black hulk of the car. "I'm gonna drive closer, get him warmed up in the vehicle. In fact I might just drive him in to the hospital myself."

Lou nodded his head slowly. "Yeah. It's a good idea, traffic's backed with that check point in place. But tell you what, how about _you_ get in _my_ car, we go get Danny together and _I'll_ drive to the hospital."

"What? Why? I'm fine to drive!" Steve exclaimed, face screwing up in protest.

"Uh-huh, okay. Sure you are," Lou nodded in mock agreement, bottom lip sticking out. "Then how about this- I'll drive you _anyway_ cause _I_ got _waterproof seat covers_ in my truck. I'm guessing Danny's as wet as you are and he ain't gonna want that car of his ruined with all that saltwater. Argue with that if you can. Come on, you're wastin' time. Jump in, let's go collect the hero of the moment and get him checked out."

Steve bristled in annoyance for a moment. Then he sagged in defeat. Yeah, okay, he was maybe a little shaky himself. Maybe a little buzzy, what with his own adrenaline surge and all. Yeah, maybe Lou had a point. Maybe he could admit he shouldn't be driving, not quite yet.

He jumped in the truck.

They drove back along the concourse, then turned onto the pier where it had all begun, where the little girl had gone in. Steve searched out the huddled figure of his partner at the seaward end of the structure as the truck rumbled along.

He frowned, seeing nothing.

As they reached the last berth, Lou stopped the truck then turned to look questioningly at Steve.

Steve stared blankly at the space on the pier where Danny had been. He got out of Lou's truck and jogged over to the discarded blanket. He spun in a tight circle, eyes roaming frantically, then shouted his partner's name. It echoed back to him, his call going unanswered. A stray pigeon shot up into the air from a nearby boatshed roof, making him jump.

Heart suddenly in his mouth, he ran to the edge of the pier because Danny had been pretty damn close to it. Sick and dizzy as he'd been, if he'd tried to get up he could have lost his balance and fallen….

Steve peered over the edge.

Nothing. But if he'd gone in the current would have taken him under the freaking pier, back where the Samoan guy had told him Danny and the little girl had been before.

But it didn't feel right.

Danny wasn't stupid. He wasn't well and he had no reason to move. He _would_ have stayed right where he was- Steve had only been gone a handful of minutes, not long enough for Danny to start to wonder where he was. Steve straightened up, looked around again. He had a bad, bad feeling, a tight ball of dread building in his gut... and it was only getting worse.

Lou walked over slowly, face filled with trepidation. "What's going on, Steve?"

"I'm not sure," Steve replied. "Lou, phone Chin. Tell him to ping my cell- Danny had it."

The SEAL started to pace, eyes roaming as he listened absently to the one-sided conversation that ensued.

Then he saw it. A smear of blood, barely discernible on the rough concrete surface of the pier, a few feet from the blanket. He froze, then pointed at it. "Shit! Lou, look! Shit. _Shit_!"

Lou's jaw dropped. "What the… Steve, you don't think…. Oh Jesus, do you think _Campbell…?_ Could Campbell have still been here?" He paused, phone still pressed to his face, horrified eyes fixed on Steve's. "Chin! Yeah, did you hear that?! There's blood here! There's a chance that bastard has him! You traced the cell yet?" He paused, listening intently.

Steve's heart was pounding. Could Campbell really have taken Danny? He hadn't been in any condition to put up a fight, that was for sure. How had Steve not seen this coming?

Their serial killer was an opportunist. He had no set MO for dispatching his victims- if he saw a chance for a kill, he went for it. He usually preyed on tourists who had lost their way, who found themselves alone. Why wouldn't he go for one of the cops who was hunting him down when he was vulnerable like Danny had been vulnerable? Steve shouldn't have left him, should _never_ have left him, even if it _was_ for a sensible reason. He hadn't been _thinking_ , had thought Campbell was _gone_.

Then Lou was stuffing his cell in his pocket and grabbing Steve's arm, pulling him along towards the truck. "Let's go! Chin says the signal is moving, it's leaving the marina up at the north exit! They must be in a vehicle. We've got him! Come on! The others are gonna head 'em off. Let's go get our boy back."

They jumped into the truck and Lou hit the gas. The vehicle's tires screeched as they tore off the pier and turned to drive along the concourse in pursuit of that cell signal.

Steve wished he had pushed his way into the driver's seat, shaky or not. His foot was twitching on the floor, searching for the phantom gas pedal, his terror and frustration leaking out pointlessly. As they passed the next pier along he cast a regretful eye back at the ocean, wishing they had never come.

He froze, staring in disbelief.

"STOP THE CAR!" he yelled.

"What?!" Lou exclaimed.

"STOP THE _FUCKING_ CAR!"

Lou screeched to a stop and Steve jumped out, staring open-mouthed at a smart, new-looking fishing boat, all clean white and sky blue. He read its name in complete and utter shock.

_Semper Simul._

Semper simul- the words Billy Selway had inexplicably spoken in Danny's dream. A shiver ran clear down Steve's spine. He read the name again and again.

"Steve?" Lou had followed him from the truck. "Steve? What is it? What the hell you doing? We gotta _go_ , man!"

Steve ignored him, took a step towards the boat. Another. Another. No, he thought. No, it was crazy. It had to be a coincidence.

He was vaguely aware Lou was repeating his name, and almost turned to speak to him. Then an icy chill hit him and, just for a moment, he couldn't _breathe_. There was no air, he couldn't breathe! He grabbed at his neck, clawing desperately. Then, as fast as it had appeared, the terrifying sensation was gone.

Then Steve knew. Danny. It was _Danny_. Campbell had left him to _drown_. Danny was drowning. _Danny was drowning_.

Steve ran, launched himself back into the ocean right by that boat without a backward glance, Lou's startled calls ringing in his ears.

He looked around, frantic, but saw nothing in the clear blue water. He moved towards the boat. Danny had to be here. He _had_ to be. Steve could _feel_ it. One hand on the hull, he pushed himself downwards into the shadows beneath the vessel. He saw the wall of seaweed beneath this pier just the same as there had been at the other where the little girl had gone in… and he remembered Danny's dream. He'd been tangled in the stuff. Pulled down by it.

Steve pushed his way into the darkness, feeling around desperately. His mind whirred endlessly.

If Danny was really underwater, really _here_ , Campbell must have moved him, dumped him in the ocean _away_ from where he'd been left. Why? Simply taking advantage of the deserted marina to reduce the chances of Danny being be found in time? _Bastard_. But it would have taken a few precious minutes to move him and Steve had only left him for five minutes, maybe six? He _couldn't_ have been down here long. There _had_ to be hope.

But time was running out fast. Steve counted seconds in his head as he searched. One minute… two minutes… three.

_Brain damage,_ said a nasty little voice in his head.

_He's already dead,_ said another, one that sounded a hell of a lot like Victor Hesse for no good reason.

Steve's heart was pounding, his desperation growing exponentially. He shook his head, tried to get his emotions in check. But he couldn't lose Danny. He _couldn't_. Danny meant everything to him. He had half of Danny's freaking _liver_ inside his own body. His best friend meant more to him that any other person in the world, no matter how bad he was at showing it a whole lot of the time. Not anymore. If he found Danny, that wouldn't be happening anymore.

And there he was. Steve's heart caught in his throat as he spotted his partner, caught up in seaweed far below him. He was floating, blond hair wafting gently in the current. As Steve powered down towards him he caught sight of Danny's eyes. They were open, but seeing nothing.

_No, no,_ _no_!

This wasn't going to happen. Steve wasn't going to let this happen! He grabbed hold of his partner under the arms and yanked at him frantically. He didn't shift an inch.

Steve pulled out his penknife began hacking the weed away from the entangled man, slashing with desperate strokes, bubbles leaking from his nose.

Finally, _finally_ , Danny came free.

Steve dropped his knife, leaving it to float downwards into the gloom. He wrapped one arm securely around Danny's chest and swam hard, praying as he kicked. _Please let him live, please, please._

" _Jesus Christ_!" he heard Lou exclaim as he broke the surface. He didn't bother responding. He pushed Danny up towards their teammate as best as he could. Lou grabbed Danny below the shoulders and heaved, grunting with the effort of shifting the waterlogged man. Steve let go for long enough to haul himself up onto the pier. He twisted around to help Lou lift the limp deadweight of his partner clear of the water, laying him out on the concrete.

"Get that bus here, _now_!" Steve yelled.

Then, for the second time that day, Steve found himself trying desperately to breathe life into another human being. Trying to keep any glimmer of life left inside going until the paramedics arrived with their life-saving equipment. Trying to buy time, to give his partner a chance to survive.

Two breaths and he could see Danny's chest rising with each out the corner of his eye, but it sounded wet and wrong. Full of water. He started compressions, hard and fast, arms straight, weight over his partner's chest. He counted, wide eyes shifting from his task to Danny's lax face over and over and over again.

Danny's eyes were half-open, the once clear blue now dull and lifeless. The light gone. His skin was white, his lips were blue and his head lolled lifelessly with every thrust, blood smearing the concrete beneath him.

As Steve reached thirty compressions, he sealed his mouth over Danny's again and breathed, once, twice, trying to push air into those waterlogged lungs.

His eyes began to fill, his vision blurring. "Please, Danny, please," he sobbed out. "Hang on. Please!"

He kept going, kept working desperately, praying he'd hear sirens any moment.

Grover's hand was on his shoulder. "Steve? Let me take over, okay?" The fear in their friend's deep voice matched his own.

And yeah, it made sense because that was what you were meant to do. Take it in turns, or divide the job like he and Danny had done without thinking less than thirty minutes earlier. It was tiring, doing this. The repetition, the counting, the concentration.

But he couldn't stop. He trusted Grover, but this… _Danny_ … it had to be him. "Not yet. I'm good," he choked.

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. The dream, the boat name- none of it could be real. Stuff like this just didn't happen. None of it made sense.

Any second he was going to wake in his bed and all of this was gonna have been a dream. He was gonna grab his cell and call Danny. It was gonna be the middle of the night so Danny would be pissed and Steve would be so, so happy to hear that bitching again. So happy to hear his best friend rant, speak, say _anything_. Just _breathe_. This was like a horrible nightmare. And it was _exactly_ that, it was _Danny's_ nightmare, come true.

And what about the rest of Danny's dream? What about Billy? The words made sense now but was the boy in Danny's head, wherever Danny was right now? Was he holding him down, preventing him coming back to them?

"Billy, you total bastard, let him _go_ ," Steve hissed, not giving a shit if he was being far from logical.

He winced as he felt a rib give way beneath his hand. A tear spilled out, burned a hot track down his cheek. He kept right on going, kept pressing rhythmically on his best friend's chest.

"Danny, please," he begged tearfully. "Please. Come back, babe. _Please_."

 

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chapter 5

Danny floated. He was under the water, seaweed all around him, at the mercy of perpetually shifting tides. He was scared, but the fight had gone from him. It was dark down there, dark and lonely. Yet he wasn't truly alone at all. Billy was there. He was out of sight but his presence was constant. Silent and inexplicable. Danny felt him watching, just watching.

Flickers of images distorted the darkness, coming and going without rhyme or reason. Movements, faces, all disjointed and meaningless. Sounds, mechanical and rhythmic. They came and went as fluid as the ocean.

He saw Grace standing over him, eyes filled with tears. He saw Steve sitting beside him, head in his hands. Nothing stayed in front of Danny for long, nothing was real. Snapshots in time lost in the unending ebb and flow.

Then he saw Billy. His old friend moved closer and stared at him with sad eyes.

Danny wanted to say sorry to him. Sorry he was the one who had made it all those years ago. Sorry Billy had died. But they were together again now, reunited beneath the ocean… so maybe that score had already been settled. Danny wanted to ask him. Wanted to say "Did you really want me to die too?" But he couldn't move, couldn't speak.

Billy seemed to hear him anyway. He shook his head emphatically. _Never._

That dark curtain lifted from his mind again and Billy was gone. Steve was back in his place. One best friend for another, Danny thought absently.

Steve's eyes were closed tight, his brow deeply furrowed. His lips moving silently as though in prayer. Did Steve pray? Danny wasn't sure. He looked exhausted. Pale. He'd lost weight. Was Steve sick? He'd come so close to dying just a few short months earlier. Danny frowned. Wished he could ask him if he was okay.

"S'm'ter?" he rasped out, then blinked blearily, astonished that his thoughts had materialized as sound. The words had been quiet but they echoed around his head like thunderclaps, and God, his throat was on _fire_. _Pain_. He was feeling _pain_. A truck was parked on his chest, some maniac was drilling into the back of his head. Was this real? Was he alive? Had the _ocean_ been a dream? Floundering, he cast a desperate look over to his partner.

Steve's eyes were open now, his expression one of pure astonishment.

"Danny?!" There was the sound of metal chair legs dragging on linoleum, then Steve was much closer, and then he was clutching Danny's hand tight.

Danny tried to squeeze back. His hand felt like it belonged to someone else.

"Hey! Hey, babe!" Steve's voice was _shaking_. Danny looked around, dazed. Hospital… was he in hospital? It looked like he was attached to as many machines as he could remember having been attached to in his life. Oh, okay. _He_ was sick.

"Wh'hpn?" he whispered, wincing at the pain it caused. He wheezed, coughed a couple of times and man that hurt. What the hell had happened to him? The reason he was there was on the edge of his mind, just out of reach.

Steve was stroking his forehead now, eyes swimming with tears, and all that open affection and emotion was a new look on him. Had it been that close? It must have been close for the man's barriers to have dropped away so completely like that.

"You remember the marina? Sand Island?" Steve murmured, reciting places instead of events like he was scared to say what had actually happened out loud or something.

Danny frowned.

Then he did, he remembered, and he gasped in shock, hands flailing spasmodically because he couldn't hold his breath and he was going to….

"Easy, easy! You're safe, you made it, buddy, you're safe. Just breathe, okay?"

Danny lifted a shaking hand that weighed a hundred tons. He grabbed onto Steve's shirt, holding tight, tight, tight, as though he might just fall back in the ocean if he let go.

"You're okay. You're okay," Steve crooned, both hands now on Danny's face.

He held Steve's concerned gaze desperately, listened to his partner's persistent reassurance. And yeah, okay, he _could_ breathe, he could. It fucking hurt but yeah. There was air. There was no water. There was no seaweed, no Billy. He hauled in mouthful after mouthful of oxygen, pulled it deep as he could into his tight, aching chest.

"Easy, easy. You've got some busted ribs there too, Danno. Take it easy."

And that might have made Danny wonder, but more facts were dropping back into place and he had more pressing things to ask about than himself. "G-girl?" he pushed out, his voice still nothing but a hoarse whisper. That was all he had. He stared anxiously at Steve, hoping he'd heard, that he understood.

A look crossed Steve face. Relief maybe? He kept his hands right where they were as he replied, and right then Danny needed that. He needed that intimate contact to keep him anchored. Maybe Steve knew.

"You really remember huh? That's… that's really fucking good partner! The doctors, they weren't sure if you would be… okay. But that's yeah, that's really good." A huge, tremulous grin split Steve's face for a fraction of a second before he spoke again. "The girl made it, Danny. She was discharged after a few days, no complications. You saved her, buddy. She wants to meet you when you're better. Her name is Lani and she's just beautiful. She really is."

"A-a few… days?" Danny frowned, shaking his aching head.

"Babe…," Steve said, so, so softly. "You've been out for two weeks. Campbell hit you pretty good. Fractured your skull… and you got pneumonia because of the water in your lungs. They kept you sedated, kept you on a ventilator till they got you stabilised. It's been… it was…."

The SEAL's voice was cracking with emotion. He stopped, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes shining bright. He rubbed his thumbs across Danny's cheeks a few times then smiled a watery smile. "I should go get the doc, tell him you're really with us this time… but you're gonna be fine, okay? They've been monitoring you and your insides are all working right. They're saying it's like you had a freaking guardian angel, buddy! We've just been waiting for you. They weren't sure if... with the head injury a-and all that time you were under the water... they didn't know. We've been hoping you were still in there. And here you are, right? You made it." The last three words were broken and whispered, like Steve couldn't quite believe they were true.

Danny nodded, shocked at everything that had happened, at the passage of time, at Steve's on-going flow of open emotion, at his own horrible weakness. "W-wait! C-Campbell?" he croaked.

Steve snorted with mirth. "We got him. Stupid bastard took my cell from you and threw it in the back of a passing truck to try to put us off the scent. But someone saw him do it, thought it was strange and took a note of the licence plate of the vehicle he took off in. Chin and Kono tracked him down. Kono totally kicked his ass. He's in Halawa awaiting trial. No bail. We've got good cases against him largely thanks to you- he'll be going away for life."

Danny nodded absently. "D-d'you p-pull me out?"

The dark-haired man nodded. Now he sat back just a touch, as far as Danny's grip would allow, his hands dropping down onto the blond man's shoulders. He stared right into Danny's eyes, wearing a face Danny couldn't think of a name for right then. Haunted? Yeah. Freaked-out Face.

"Danny, this might sound crazy. No, it _does_ sound crazy. We thought Campbell had taken you in a _vehicle_ , we didn't think he'd dropped you in the water at all. We were gonna leave the marina. Then I saw a name on a freaking boat. D, it was _Semper Simul,_ just like Billy said in your dream. And I just, I _knew_ what had happened. I can't even explain it. I _knew_ Campbell had dumped you in the water by that boat. And I was _right_. Crime lab are saying you went in right beside it- they found traces of blood. Drag marks."

Steve paused, shook his head, disbelieving. "I'll tell you, buddy… Lou thought I'd gone crazy diving in like that. Keeps saying you and I must have some kind of psychic link or something now cause I knew you were right there." He snorted out a dry chuckle. "Not sure what's the least unbelievable explanation- the psychic thing or that a dead guy gave you that name in a dream! _Jesus_ , though... that was close. If I hadn't seen the name on that boat I wouldn't have looked in the water. Not right away. Not until it was… _._ " He trailed off, chewing that lip again, the _too late_ left unspoken.

Danny stared at him in shock, trying to get his aching, fuzzy head around what Steve was telling him. And suddenly everything fell into place. "He was trying to warn me, wasn't he?" he whispered softly.

Of course. It all made sense. Billy hadn't wanted him to die- quite the opposite. He'd been trying to show him what fate had in store for him, and where it was going to happen. He'd been trying to _save_ him. How could he ever have thought his best friend from all those years ago could have meant him harm?

Steve shook his head slowly. "I don't know what to believe. But your dream saved you and that's a fact. I can't think of a single way to explain it that doesn't bring me right back to those ancient Hawaiian beliefs I told you about. I just… thank _fuck_ you told me about it. Thank _fuck_. It came down to a name on a freaking boat, Danny. A name on a freaking boat. Without that… So yeah, if it came from him…."

Maybe it was the drugs or the head injury or the shock of wakening and discovering he was alive. Maybe it was the idea that somehow, somewhere, Billy, might live on. Maybe that meant other people he had loved and lost lived on too. They might be looking out for him in their own way. Whatever- Danny found himself totally overcome. His eyes filled with tears.

"You're okay, you're okay," Steve soothed. Careful, careful, avoiding lines and wires, he leaned over Danny, wrapped his arms around him and embraced him, one hand carefully cradling his head.

Danny pressed his face into Steve's shirt, hiding his tears. "Shit! Steve… I still miss him. Is that crazy?" he rasped, breath hitching. He wheezed again, chest way too congested for this.

Steve rubbed his back gently. "Easy, partner. No. No, it's not crazy. I get it. I still miss Freddie. I guess I'm just lucky you came along when you did, right? When I needed a friend more than anything, not that I even knew it. Yeah. I owe you… so much."

Danny squeezed his eyes closed, let the strong arms and the familiar musky scent comfort him. His breathing eased slowly. "Same," he murmured. And he wanted to add something else but he was fading now, already exhausted. The doctor would have to wait.

Steve must have known _exactly_ what he was thinking. He laid Danny down and sat back, reaching to grip his hand again. "I'm guessing if you were up to lecturing me you'd tell me we've both lost good friends in our time, so we shouldn't take what you and I have for granted. Right? That maybe I should show my appreciation for you by taking care of your liver for once… and stop trying to get myself killed?"

Danny huffed out a surprised laugh and nodded tiredly.

Steve smiled indulgently. "I'll do my best, okay? Although… if anything ever does happen to me... If I die then I randomly find out something's gonna happen to _you_ , I'm gonna be _way_ more specific with the dream-messages I send you than Billy was, I'll tell you that for nothing. You're gonna get names, dates, times, locations, specific MO's, recommended preventative action." He turned his head, looked at the empty space around them. "No offence intended, Billy," he added. "Seriously man, thanks for looking out him, okay?"

Danny shook his head at his partner and smiled softly. He let his eyes fall shut, the narcotic tide flowing too hard to fight any longer. He still could hear Steve speaking softly to him, feel him stroking his hand, and he knew the SEAL was staying right there, knew he wasn't alone.

As sleep took him, Danny felt another presence. He knew it instantly, knew it was his long lost friend again. But, this time, everything had changed. There was no choking water. No seaweed. No fear. Billy smiled a wistful little smile at Danny. He looked _peaceful_. Then he was gone.

Danny slept a dreamless sleep, deep and sound.

THE END

**Thanks for reading!**

**Endless thanks to KQ (How many times did you have to say 'it's the freaking OCEAN not the freaking SEA you FREAK'? What can I say, it's all wet and salty.)**

*** Moehewa- nightmare.**


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